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 |    10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind |
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Making sure everything goes down with a yank before someone has to sit where I've been at. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I had a lover's quarrel with the world - Robert Frost | I'm sorry you got caught in the middle. - me This poet’s words collect, arrange on a kaleidoscope spectrum. The experience of discovery through writing is the truest reward that has allowed me to grow and learn who/what I am — what other people get naturally, immediately, while I stomp around in it. Been blessed, but pushing it — envelope, world and all inhabitants away. Push buttons, find boundaries to trip traps. No clue why cat curiosity, living in your dark. (Bored, perhaps?) Now and then, push dirt out of this hole; someone/thing/entity might envision me how I need to be viewed (if I knew what that was). Cryptic, yes. Try living in my dark, find comfort amid strange, virtual, wonderful walls that tower above, tempt me to scale. Been more than I could imagine or expect here. But, achievements aren’t going on a LinkedIn wall  . I dig deeper than I should, often without forethought. Aimless words, brave or veiled cowardice, flinchingly flung, inadvertently hit targets? Get a ‘back off’ shoulder shot when asking your motivations here. Not fair?No prize to eye; not incentivized. Dealt the worst two cards before the flop, do best with what’s in hand. My Pluggers: You are an icon here.  You suffer, but you suffer brilliantly. Wow, what a great writer.  It’s like plugging myself, but using other people’s (reviewers) words…Review of "Poetic Referendum(s) On Life"  Your poetic muse is on fire!  Some great emotion, well-balance(d), lovely lyrical qualities -- even the ones that were written out of sadness or anger came through in a clever cadence…It's obvious you've put a lot of work into each entry and the totality of the blog has eye appeal.  Published four times with one a literary journal, including…  "The Tender Core (Sedona)"  I don’t submit because it’s too much work. Truly alone, know no one cares to show they believe/support me. Lip service feeds delusion. I’ve seen a lot of smoldering and snow. Try not be cynical, work hard at openness and consideration — work, sooo…gut thing.   ![Merit Badge in Taboo Words
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Brian,
Congratulations! You won 1st Place in Taboo Words with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1027659].
I absolutely loved this! *^*Heart*^*
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Taboo_Words-2139481_13.gif) ![Merit Badge in Poetry
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Thanks you for supporting the [Link To Item #power] with an order to the [Link To Item #powergifts] ! We appreciate it. *^*Heartv*^* Keep writing the beautiful poetry. [Link to Book Entry #1027659] is an awesome poem! *^*Starv*^* ~Lornda](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/type-Poetry-2180.gif)  August 28, 2006 this blog opened ▼
No specific aim going forward (2014) ▼  Now: I was such a whore.  This is old….What? Oh, this? A rhetorical, self-motivational speech I'm working on. Don't just read the parts to construct your theory, as if to confirm (construed out of context) your opinion, mentally-stunted Neanderthal. Therapist wants me to be less negative toward myself. I see it as attacking, rather than being defensive. Fear I will chomp too many bullets unintentionally sent toward the unsuspecting. If you can be triggered for stupid reasons, then I? …just looked like me rolling around on the floor with myself.    What Was NEW Who am I, you ask? My mirror knows that question, repeated daily. Just trying to create a little buzz, not boost my ego.  #amwriting #poetry #blog #contest #freeverse #award #bestpoetry #freyaridings #lyrics #music #video #YouTube Can you believe it took this long for someone to put a quarter in me and push the button GET ANGRY? Mud 4 My Eye:  Is that you, Poo? 💩 Secret Back Door ▼ |
| Tweetables - Part Two Stuff I've never tweeted on Twitter... Is it necessary to say tweeted? Can't I just say posted? Do real men tweet or twitter? I'll bet they obsess about the number of their followers, too. #posted If I get Alzheimer's and can't remember where the can is, wife says I won't be living here anymore. Gonna write that on my hand along with don't wash hand. I'm broken and cannot be fixed, yet cannot be destroyed. (Another late night of self-loathing) Self edit button is in overload today. Won't be long and I'll be calling tech support: pharmaceutical or well mixed potion. Waiting for PFT to approve my late night posts is like sitting on the toilet after indulging in an all-you-can-eat chocolate, dairy and steak buffet. I know I'm supposed to 'do stuff' this morning, but I'm un hitching the wagon called life and taking a tumble in the meadow high grass to get lost for awhile. Darn thorns. I never got Zack Galifianakis, but I did learn to spell his name today. Moving on. The drama has been sapped from these sitcom romances when you know each newcomer to a show has only signed on for four episodes. To the guy who nods his approval, "nice ride," I say, " you, too" for the girl I cannot attain on his arm. Need a filter for the clutter of cliches cramping my unique style. #unique #cliche Twitter is so instantaneous and reactive that if you don't have a clear take, the convo is downstream b4 you know it. If I get Alzheimer's and can't remember where the can is, wife says I won't be living here anymore. Gonna write it on my hand. Somehow, some way, one day, I hope to overcome all that inhibits me to get a fuller appreciation of life. I don't know if that day will come soon. But, I do have kids of my own to raise. Anything I can learn from life lessons, good or bad, can help me teach them. |
Tweetables - Part One Stuff that doesn't get to make it on Twitter. Sorry you're stuck with the rest... Blog = place where I contradict myself daily and no one calls me on it. My life feels like chewing scenery and beating the brush on the set of Lost. Confusing and pointless. I can't be patronizing and comment on what you just said (to no one in particular). I'm going to go over here now. Why don't they make a show about people who only interact through social media? Isn't that real life, or is that only me? Reality isn't good enough for reality shows. Obsessed with TV. I spurn it and it keeps coming back to me in my weakest hour. Box up some more chocolate, I'm on my way. Writing lines like this to yourself, knowing you have no audience, really causes you to question your sanity and who the protagonist in your life would really do. Witty, pun-filled ads, promos, teasers every time I tune in somewhere. No thanks. I've had my fill today reading newspaper headlines. Been privately owned and operated since 1995. Nothing leftover from my going out of business sale. The heightened awareness of my work habits forced people to realize I am doing my job like I've been doing all along, and yet, treat it like an improvement. If I get Alzheimer's and can't remember where the can is, wife says I won't be living here anymore. Gonna write that on my hand along with don't wash hand. If I get Alzheimer's and can't remember where the can is, wife says I won't be living here anymore. Gonna write that on my hand along with don't wash hand. |
I don't like to refill the ice cube tray… But I would do it for you I don't like to scoop the litter… But I would do it for you I don't like to take a bath daily… But I would do it for you Maybe, run a comb through my hair I don't like to dine at fancy restaurants… But I would do it for you I don't bother to put the toilet seat down… But I would do it for you I don't like to send text messages… But I would do it for you I do like to watch football on Sunday… But I would give it up for you I would write you a poem… If that was the easiest thing to do to convince you that I love you Don't know if I'll ever finish this, sooo..... |
| The white blanket seals your eyes from all beneath. With rosy cheeks you tremble and grit teeth. Hot breath does not survive the frigid air. Smoke signals dance above frozen, wispy hair. Jangled keys struggle against a steely lock. Your meek footing anchors to an icy walk. Mechanically, the temporary fortress yields to you. Once inside you're confident what you need to do. The engine roars contempt against the wintry blast. The mind shifts gears; you're temped to go fast. Hurling winds smash against glass-walled catacomb. But, you cannot be deterred on this journey home. Hundreds and hundreds of miles they chased you, Down lonesome highways bare tires echo so blue. Night owls and a lone white fox watched you pass. If you'd only been able to get past the last Bend in the road. 1/14/14 origin |
After much arm-twisting from my wife, I finally published some poetry. Only I did it on Amazon as a kindle book for 99 cents just so she can have a copy for Christmas and then I can go on with my life.
I really was not able to put together a collection that I could tag with a much higher price tag like other authors do. I don't think anyone is looking to buy poetry anyway, but maybe family and friends can download it and share it. That would mean more to me. If by chance I find others who are interested, hopefully I will learn something from the process. Anyway, let me know what you think. I'm in the market for a book cover instead of that stupid image that I didn't want that I can't take off until I find a replacement. Any suggestions? |
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| My life has been about squandered opportunities, not having the confidence to pull the trigger on decisions that would have ultimately impacted the outcome of my life. I look back at the wake of obstacles I’ve avoided and wonder how I managed to get this far, steering my life through the wreckage of lost chances. Why do I just let life happen, rather than live it. I don’t interact with it, try to control it by turning down the shades. Don’t want the light to shine in. Don’t want my eyes to look out and see what I’m missing. Each new day is squandered indoors by the dim light of a tv screen or computer. By shuttering eyes that dare not see what little opportunity is left for me. I dare not reminisce on what I could have had, how I have not lived. Don’t want to spiral into deep regret. Today. Today I live. For what little there is left for me, I scoop heaping handfuls into my mouth and savor every bite. If I have to look back at another day and see what I have failed to pursue, I will die another thousand deaths of self-pity and contempt. I do not blame anyone else for my misdirection anymore. My parents are both dead. My loving wife and darling children are blessings not obstacles to the future I can choose to have. Let’s see how long I can live by this mantra. Seize the day! Carpe diem. Latin, latin, something, something. The End. Fin. A poem that epitomizes my life long struggle, written when I was still a young man:
"One Little Word" |
| I must strive for mediocrity, anonymity even. Lower, lower I must go! To the bottom beneath all I shall dwell The true experience of life here is to be a bottom dweller. I must live by this credo! from "Stereotypical musings of a white boy in middle class America" |
| Ever feel helpless because you are just one person? Every day you hear about the atrocities around the world. You can pick out a sad story from the headlines any time you turn on the news, reach for a newspaper, or listen to the accounts of the lives about you. It's unfortunate that we feel we cannot unify ourselves to combat the elements that sadden us, weaken our hearts daily. But I'm reminded, as I was today, there is hope. I just have to trust in the Lord/God, in myself, to do the right things to bring about change. We could also just spread the love and infect others with the joy that could encourage change in our lives and to the surrounding world until all the walls that surround us can tumble down. Its like the little ant, that little locomotive, the one spark that could ignite a fire. Just as we could inflict pain with one little word, we could do so much good with one act/word that is good. Yes, I'm fresh from this Sunday's sermon. I have my pastor and my son to thank for some encouraging words that resonate in my mind as I type this message. In fact, I was jotting down my thoughts on the church bulletin when I was struck with another epiphany to bring it all home. The message today was about one little word and how it could have so much meaning and impact -- when words tempt tongues and teaching ourselves to spread love and not hate. And I was reminded how much time I dwell on the negative, the things I cannot change while ignoring the most precious assets in my life...my children. As my son and I walked up the aisle to take communion holding hands, he gave me a tug to pull my ear down to his level. He had wanted to walk up with his mother who opted to carry his sister and a fight could have broken out, but I had reached back and tenderly took his hand to show him I needed him by my side. The loving act inspired him to say, "Dad, do you think after church we could spend some time together? Just you and me?" How could I deny this request, even though I had planned to write. (I'm writing this now while he is in Sunday school so I do not interfere with our time together when he returns home) Thoughts were taking shape in my mind about Alex growing up and needing me. Would we still be close and share time together, have a bond so strong that it would do both our hearts good. I thought about the path so many other parents take with their teens, getting disconnected and never being able to properly communicate or respect one another enough to know each others needs, the common understanding of what each face and how they are really in this life together. When we had returned to our pews, I reached for my bulletin to write down this precious moment to recount in my blog here. I didn't want to lose its profoundness. I started by jotting 'could it be as simple as the precious gift of our time, giving them not only our eyes and ears but our hearts?' After I began to scribble down what Alex had told me, it was time to turn to our hymnals and the profundity struck again like a tidal wave...Hymn number 454: "Open My Eyes, That I May See". It was all there, discovering the words as we sang about the eyes, ears, and mind, and ultimately, the heart. Three simple verses resonated in my soul. I realized then God had a suggestion for me, telling me I was on the right path to understanding. The sermon about spreading those words of love, about sharing this kindness with my children, seeds of love to plant and watch grow, to carry on the message of His love. It's so obvious, and we all know right from wrong. But don't we need an eye-opener like this from time to time? Don't we need to feel that special connection to God to let us know he is listening? Timing is everything. It is key to helping us take a moment of epiphany and make it life changing. I have been tuning out my family to focus on this writing that just would not bear fruit for me. But with my children, I have true inspiration. The love I share with them will grow and return to me. I just have to be patient and give it a little time. I wrestle with not being a more productive writer with the limitations of my vision, mental and physical health, my shortcomings as a human who finds it difficult to interface with this alien internet society. I wanted more from myself, to feel fulfillment from something that would not give back. I looked for rewards, feedback, any message that would say 'yes, this is your calling. You've finally found what you've been looking for.' But I have nothing to reap from what I have sown. It seems a lifetime since I started writing again and found myself here. I lost my way. There has been so much ignorance to this renewed fire to write that I cannot see where it should be taking me. I need to take a step back and focus on family, on sharing my love with others, on taking care of this fragile psyche so I can be healthy enough to write again...when the time is right. I have to take these little words and invest them in a loving strategy. I need to plant these seeds where they will grow and ignore infertile soils and seek greater pasture. I'm running out of metaphors! Guess that's my cue to end it here for now. I really should end it here...take some time and really consider hard the choices I've been presented with today. If I never come back to write, I should still be happy. I have love...God and family. That's all I need to insure happiness. No more of the 'what if', doubting, trolling this empty internet wasteland to sate my need for some arrival. It's not here (at this website for writers). It may never be. It's just a virtual reality. I've got something real. ~ Brian Open my eyes, that I may see Glimpses of truth Thou hast for me; Place in my hands the wonderful key That shall unclasp and set me free. Refrain 1: Silently now I wait for Thee, Ready my God, Thy will to see, Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit divine! Open my ears, that I may hear Voices of truth Thou sendest clear; And while the wave notes fall on my ear, Everything false will disappear. Refrain 2: Silently now I wait for Thee, Ready my God, Thy will to see, Open my ears, illumine me, Spirit divine! Open my mouth, and let me bear, Gladly the warm truth everywhere; Open my heart and let me prepare Love with Thy children thus to share. Refrain 3: Silently now I wait for Thee, Ready my God, Thy will to see, Open my heart, illumine me, Spirit divine! |
| I started yet another novel and posted today, about the seventh I've put up since joining. This was written several months ago and was lying about and decided to tidy up and post just to see if I get any reaction. I haven't developed the plot or characters. It's borne out of my personal experiences trying to rehabilitate myself through exercise and realizing the many avenues to my past opening up. Basically, it's about how difficult it is to understand your body; what's wrong with you, as you meander through life searching for meaning. I want to delve into family secrets, a past that comes into light when the adult actually illuminates the dark areas of the mind. I could go into areas I'm not familiar with like abuse and more...just not sure how to develop the main character. But, he will be flawed like me. Hopefully, the process will allow me to illuminate the dark regions of my own life and to write some meaning into it. What I take out of the equation is my struggles with glaucoma and blindness. What I leave in will be troubles with sleep apnea, self-esteem and self-worth, depression and the aforementioned health issues. I lived a charmed life for some time, but think I managed to ruin it for myself thinking I didn't deserve the things that came my way. I want to show a character who failed himself because of the conditioning of the child in the past. Essentially, breaking this cycle. So far, what I've written was just an epiphany after jogging through a park near my home. I started to think clearly and all these thoughts started pouring out of me, so when I came home I grabbed all the paper I could find in my truck and wrote until I exhausted every thought I had from jogging that trail. I did not make the item rateable, because it is so raw. Hope that does not discourage anyone from reading and sending feedback.
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| Don't know if I'll be relieved or sad when my time is up. I am disappointed that I was not able to accomplish more. I had my goals in sight, but ultimately, I felt like it wasn't playing out the way it should. I got sidetracked by the poetry, thinking I could publish a book of the stuff. But I knew that was not my best foot forward. I had reviewers getting inside my head with all the flattery. I could tell some where blowing smoke up my ass. I think I never fit in at this site for whatever reasons. I don't care to ponder why anymore. I look back and see a lot of squandered opportunities. I wish I could have kept my original focus instead of letting this poetry thing become my calling card. I think I just need to get away from this site so I can think for myself -- not that I don't want to be a part of a great network of writers. I just can't focus anymore. Too many pieces to my life are falling apart, rather than coming together. So, I need some time away. Maybe forever. There have been those who've provided me with great support. There have been others who've let me know that I'm an unwanted element. Either way, now I have to look within to find the one person who can give me everything I need. I don't need any other...just me. I am very fortunate for the past 15+ months, for the lessons I've learned, ~ Glaedr |
| It takes an actor to make memorable lines immortal. It takes a great writer to realize and pen those words to paper, imagining the affect those utterances will have on a captive audience. |
| ******************************************************************* WARNING! EDITORIAL WARNING! OPINION: Unscripted small talk can make you cringe or it can make you smile. And when it can make you smile, it can REALLY make you smile. I think about this when I watch certain segments of television programs. I especially do not like news anchors pitching their banter about at the end of a newscast. I know they need to kill time before going into station break, but some think they are witty or even funny. Could we just script the small talk, too? Just run a few more words through the teleprompter and save us the embarrassment of watching their gaffes unfold live on the airwaves. The movie Anchorman went overboard with how inanely unintelligent television broadcasters can be, and yet underlined the truth about how undereducated, underinformed these mouth pieces can be. ******************************************************************* I feel like Erkel sometimes. Ever write something and then come back to it and think, "Did I write thaaaaat?" It's like getting out of bed at night to use the toilet and having no memory of it. It's like driving down those lanes in life before you realize you can't remember passing the Jiffy Lube or the hamburger joint enroute to your destination. And of course, and possibly because of the denial, how that bag of chips magically disappeared when you reach for another nibble and nothing there. It's weird reading stuff I've written and think about the state of mind I was in. Sometimes, it feels like I've become a completely different person. Some things I write I nail down the first time out. Other times, I struggle with much of the baggage this craft has to offer. I wonder how I can be so different day to day. I wonder how it is that I could leave a little piece of myself behind and not know it, not relate to it. I start to look at the past and think, that wasn't me. It's like you can step out of your shell and into something new. Maybe, like trading in a vehicle. You want something roomy, a little more comfortable. And don't we all upsize with age? Whatever it was that was me, it's gone. I can't relate to it, as it's in the past. Have to put all that stuff behind me and focus on the road ahead. I really don't know who I was anymore. Just little bits and pieces of me stayed, like the core players of a football team. I just go out and draft a few more character traits, seek to upgrade my talent pool via free agency, maybe develop some undrafted sorts who have what it takes to make my team. I keep rebuilding with the same, or similar emphasis on, my overall game plan and/or concept. The more I work at this craft, the better I should become. No matter how many skins I shed, it's all for the good. I'll eventually find my goal through this massive transformation as a writer. And if I don't make it, I'll have the journey and the trail I can trace back to the past to bring me forward again. ah, yeah. did I just write that too? Wonder how many times I'll look back at this and think someone else could have wrote it. |
| I got done with my third yoga class in a month and reached for my notebook to pen these words: "Eternally terminally ill: Life is my death sentence." In other words, I feel like the walking dead...in more ways than one. Physically, I've had my struggles. Mentally, I cannot get with the program. Yoga is teaching me and exercising these tired old limbs, in hopes of being productive and useful again. But I'm learning I resist change, I'm pessimistic and my body is failing me where I was once a superior physical specimen. I'm learning I've got an uphill battle and it's not as easy as it used to be for me. I was the type that didn't have to study much for a test. My body needed little help with conditioning. I've been idle in so many areas of my life for so long, I've never experienced having this many obstacles to overcome. Besides the bad eyesight, my hearing is bad. I can't even balance myself on one foot. I'm awkward and worry that I'll bump or fall into a fellow classmate during routines that move too fast for me. I try to sit at the back of the room so I don't become a spectacle or raise more self-doubt making me want to skip the rest of these sessions. But I know I must preservere. I must make a fool of myself if I want to get ahead. But, I just can't get with the program. The one thing above all that I'm noticing is these child like fears that keep springing up. It could be something as simple as my breathing. When to breath in. When to breath out. How to measure those breaths. It's reminding me of the panic I felt as a young one, worrying I would get scolded for not doing something properly. I'm actually worried I will be singled out in front of a class of adults because I didn't exhale for the same amount of time as I inhaled. I don't want to be reminded I could make the mistake of inhaling when I should have exhaled. I'm trying to breath through my nose, but I've been stuffed up with respiratory issues on and off since January. I breath through my mouth repeatedly to compensate. Fortunately, as the exercise routines play out, my airways clear up so that I can get some air through my nostrils, but then all the mucous moves to the back of my throat. All this discomfort, all these ordinary little problems compounded by the larger physical and emotional setbacks, and I keep reminding myself to just breathe...to just stay calm...to stay the course. I'm so much better for it when the class is over, but then I look back through all the obstacles real and imaginary and wonder if this is my life. Do I go through this day in and day out, putting obstacles in my path? Do I make out some obstacles to be larger than most? Why does my childhood haunt me still? I came to conclude that I'm still seeking rewards denied me by my Dad growing up, even though I thought I had put this behind me. I transfer this onto others who don't reward me, real or unmerited. I know that I should focus on the positives and look away from the headlights of the past that still lock me in, stare me down, dare me. I feel like I still have a score to settle with the old man for all the years he kept me humble, knocking me down and daring me to get up only to be sent to the mat again. I also wonder if Mom was a bit of a perfectionist who was overprotective and tried to keep me out of harms way, from experiencing life. There are times I cannot fathom how to overcome some of life's little ailments. I have to learn for myself what it takes to become an adult on my own, tackle my own problems in ways my parents could not understand, in ways they could have never been prepared to instruct me. So, I packed up my bag, put away my mats, got a basketball and walked into the gym. This was where I could feel good about myself, the realm where I once overachieved because I dreamed of making basketball stardom a reality. That course in life is well in the past, and while I'm legally blind and physically in the worst shape of my life, I can still do things with a basketball that others can only imagine. My body was becoming tight from the yoga, and I had to continually stretch to keep arms, legs and back limber. But, as I pounded that ball into the floor, I could feel all the anxiety, frustration and depression melt away. As I hoisted that ball and launched shot after shot, calm and satisfaction set in. I could hear the net's rip from over 20 feet away, better than I could visualize that basketball quickly passing through its goal. My confidence was returning, my realizations about my true potential came into the light. The illumination of who I am, what I am capable of, made me wonder how I could let it all slip away in the first place. I can't stay more than a few steps away from the core of my beliefs. I have to tether myself to the happy side of this reality, surround myself with those who know who I am, what I am, and stop listening to the doubts. Now, if I could just drop a few pounds and get some cardio conditioning under my belt, I could make a few cuts on these less than nimble feet. Be nice to attack the basket, leap or knife my way through the air like I once did. It still gives me a special feeling when I walk off that court and know that I can still make a few jaws drop with all the bombs I land. If they only knew... Now, I'm at the computer typing about my experiences, getting those special little throbs of pain to let me know what areas of my body I've overworked. I'm fortunate that my wife has the day off, as she is out of the house with Maddie. Alone, and in need of a shower, the blood inside my body is warm, a temporary sense of satisfaction. But, I must stop myself now. Time to raise the bar, add a few more goals and keep the focus on the road ahead. Time to say goodbye to the doubts of the past. Time to live like I was dying. |
| Cliche as it may be....I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. Yet again, I will have to go to the doctor to treat was ails me with this upper respitory rattle. When I think it has gone, it only retreats for a month or two to return with avengence. I've had a cold most of the summer and have never been this sick in all of my years. Is age catching up with me? I also have to go to a doctor to see about my problems with my right leg. Seems I have a defective vein that needs to be removed. Have had doctors scratching their heads for months trying to figure out my edema. Finally, this might be the diagnosis I've waited for. But, it involves surgery to remove the leg making incisions in my calf, ankle and upper thigh to pull out the bad vein. Should take a few days to recover. Don't like the idea of being cut open. But, I'm tired of hobbling around on a swollen leg. I'm having a better time of it now that I've stablized after going off the anti-depressants cold turkey. I feel I am in control of my emotions again. Not that every day life doesn't try my patience, because there are times when I think I'm about to go into a downward spiral. But, I won't let myself. It seems I've taken enough abuse in my walk of life to not let stuff rub me the wrong way any more. I won't give those menaces the benefit of seeing me suffer. In fact, I don't suffer. It's nice to have all this stuff just glance off me as I continue to walk forward. Now, if I could only figure out what direction I'm supposed to be going. So, I guess if I get depressed it's all this sickness that won't let me see the light of day or at the end of the tunnel. I'm fortunate to have some freedom now to have time for myself to rest with Alex in school again and Maddie at a sitter 12 hours a week. I'm still adjusting and trying to figure out how best to spend my time, develop a routine. Enough of my belly aching now. |
| One of the areas of this website that I shy away from now are the contests. Some are great for inspiring one to write, come up with new ideas. But what is the purpose of writing for these prompts? To me, it is to show what I can do and to see what kind of response/feedback I can get for my efforts. In the past, I wrote Kansaspoet and enjoyed the process. I have been meaning to return, but have lost my way. Many other contests with or without prompts have come along. I've tried most and failed, either to finish an entry or to provide an entry satisfactory to the judges. So now, I don't give contests priority. And I think about why I don't enter any more, and this is what I'm coming up with. I think the amount of time it takes to participate is great, and a writer would like a return on the investment to make it worth while. For several reasons, the return has lessened for me. Very little attention is paid to entries. I enter, get a review and that is about it. Just about anyone can judge a contest and if you don't know what the judges like, it's a shot in the dark. I don't even know why some of these folks think they qualify to hold a contest and/or judge it. The reviews seem rushed, don't seem to grasp the concept of what the writer attempts to achieve. The judging is questionable. I find judges can't appreciate anything beyond rhyme, symmetry and meter. It feels like some don't appreciate the effort it takes some to participate, even admonishing aimlessly because of the low number of entries. Or, they give reviews that don't properly thank, and some just go right into criticizing. I got two such reviews from a member who I thought was a friend, who picked apart my work with no apologies. A person who previously suggested poetry was not their thing. So why try to judge and shoot down what I thought were some decent efforts? The whole process was becoming pretty disappointing. Thankfully, I'm getting plenty of attention from my Rising Star friends, mainly GabriellaR45   who has awarded three or more of my works inside of two months, I want to say. She has been very encouraging. I tell you, my membership is due to run out in a few months, and I'm not too thrilled about staying on because of the kind of response I get on a variety of things. I have made some great contacts, but I really don't need to keep 225 items online or spend all the time dressing up my port for such disappointing outcomes. The free membership is basically all I need.I pretty much stopped gabbing in scroll because it is always the same old stuff. Mostly puns, wordplay and some imaginative interactions aside from a bunch of 'hello' and 'how are yous'. I stopped participating in forums because they are barely interactive. There is little give and take. I feel reviewing other members is the greatest way to make contacts. Some people will return the favor and provide decent commentary. I've found a few members to keep me on my toes. But keeping the lines of communication open is pretty difficult, making me pursue input. That usually results in a less than favorable outcome. I'm starting to the think the online thing is good for just a few things. One, is introducing new items. I can keep the minimum 10 items here and review folks to keep lines of communication open. Two, is I can follow groups and contests to see what is happening. I can still watch what they are talking about in scroll to know what the latest is. Three, I'll have a port with email set up where I can direct people from around the net and in my travels to look at my work. I don't need over 200 items. I don't need a book. I can post a few chapters. A writer doesn't need to post a whole book online. I worry about others who could take my works and rewrite to suit themselves, as there is much of that rewriting of copyrighted material going around, as with freelance writing articles on the internet. You can practically rewrite anything and have it pass copyscape or whatever without infringement. So, don't need tons of space. And I can link to another webpage where I'm allowed to have lots of free webspace where people can review without the bother of ratings and other crap. They can just leave feedback without all the posturing and other stuff that strains potential relationships from forming. So, I guess I'm leaning toward letting my upgrade expire in November. I'll just take down what I don't need to leave up. I had a good run. I'm not going to get any further accolades than I'm getting for the occasional item, so it's not worth the extra investment. I just want to get serious about writing again and leave the better portion of my time here behind me. I'll savor and keep the few worthwhile acquaintances I've made in hopes of furthering myself as a writer. Despite what I failed to accomplish here in one year, I think I'm better for the experience overall. I worry for others who'll fall into a trap of false expectations. I wish I could warn them somehow on how to avoid the pitfalls to get the greatest rewards from being a member here. I've done what I can. I have to close the door on that as well. I have to put myself first now and stop looking back Brian |
| It's not easy to lose a friend, especially one that means well. She has been kind and has made my experience here a bit more enjoyable. But, either she is young and naive or just too stubborn to realize that she can be offensive when she thinks she's taking care of business. Friends and business...? I'm beginning to think that she might have only seen me as an acquaintance or just another member. I don't know her really all that well, and perhaps friend is using the term a bit too loosely. But really, how much do we really know about one another in this writing community? So a friend she was. But, because she is in a position to oversee activities here as a moderator, she became overzealous in the handling of an introductory rating of one of my works that I actually sent to her for consideration at her request. What she did was change the intro rating on it, activating the automated message system letting me know my poem was handcuffed with the rating change. I didn't have any way of knowing who did it, but my suspicions were aroused. What complicates the story is the necessity of the gag. The word was 'gagged' to suggest societal oppression/repression. Pretty ironic I thought that a work that was about the restrictiveness of the world around us (inside this very writing community) will not allow us to come out of our closets and cages to express freely who we are. The interpretation of the word as 'violence' failed to take into account the figurative connotation of the word, the repression of expression. Does anyone believe this is offensive?
I personally asked this person if she had a moment and could speak on the matter and asked directly if she had indeed imposed the rating change, which she freely admitted. I asked, why? Why not email me first and let me know that she felt this might be an offensive word based on the very vague set of guidelines for rating one's work? Her focus was solely on the justification for the change and not about why I am being systematically dealt with. Her basic response was that she's been through this kind of stuff before with other members and they have not always complied. I didn't get the benefit of the doubt as a friend, a colleague, a fellow member, but was treated like someone she's never known, or been on a first name basis with, or one who does not comply with rules. So, I'm lumped in with all the rest, punitively arrested by someone you think of as a friend, or just an acquaintence, who couldn't tell you up front but send you through a systemized snubbing. What is that supposed to make me feel like? Yes, I can amend it, change the word. I can move on. But I won't censor myself now, not over something like this. I'll admit I let my emotions get the better of me. I asked her to show me where it is written that this word is not acceptable. I changed my handle to 'Gagged!' before she told me I couldn't do that either and changed it to 'GAGGEE is Me.' I'm not proud of myself for publicly demonstrating my feelings. But I have been through it before. I am not getting heard. So, I must take all of these feelings and emotions and look at the wall, look at the ceiling, look at the floor and think REAL HARD before I respond. It feels like I'm being provoked, but I have to assess the situation. This is a good person. This is a person who seems to mean well. But, maybe she doesn't respect me. Maybe as a member of management here, among the Mods and the like, there are some feelings of contempt for me for my vocal nature. Could her impression of me be affected by what goes around on this site or behind the closed door marked Mods Only. The way this thing ends is we IM a couple of times. I learn that she's a bit frazzled by this. She's thrown her arms up in the air like I'm impossible. I tell her I'm reasonable but feel she could make amends, if she cared to. I got an email from her telling me that she "could not accept my item" for her activity because of it's new "introductory rating." I thought that was rich. Oh, but I could "submit another." How do I know that won't be offensive, too. See, I'm doing it again. How can one not feel hurt and want to respond in kind to someone who can seem so indifferent and insensitive to others. She's young, but she's a Mod. She's in a position of authority. She's an ambassador to this site -- a site that doesn't appear to care about it's paying members unless they have a hint of case color. That's what I said. I know there are Mods out there that care. The establishment on the whole does not. Go ahead, show me the door. Gag me. |
| I'm a former reporter and someone who has dealt with a lifetime of depression, sought treatment for 10 years and has given up. I try to capture the feeling of the ignorance that surrounds this disease...how people will treat you as worthless and/or defective when overwhelmed by the storms of depression, making it difficult to be the normal, model citizen that they need to maintain order in their world. I introduced the poem as follows in the Plug Page: "For those who struggle for understanding when in the grips of depression, a little satire to poke fun at the ignorant who try to put a spin on it." Here is the new poem ("Are You Safe In Your Houses?" ) which surprisingly received an awardicon while I was away this weekend on a camping excursion. Didn't even have it set for ratings yet...Thank you GabriellaR45 for acknowledging this work so quickly! I contemplated whether or not I would venture into another Shining Stars competition with this poem...this will do much nicer!~ Brian A pic from our camping trip, too... ** Image ID #1295877 Unavailable ** ...Maddie and Daddy
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| I'm approaching my one year anniversary here. I feel like I've made some great strides with my writing. I blame myself for not achieving the goals I set for myself after becoming a member, because I haven’t figured out how to cultivate this dream and make it a reality. This site was an easy place to stop, drop and put up some works, then sit back and enjoy the interactions like an old sidewalk vendor. And that's pretty much all it has been. There are many freedoms and benefits to being here. It is easy now that I've learned my way around. But it feels like I'm in this bubble looking out at the rest of the world. There aren't many avenues to explore that will get me to that next step; and knowing what that step should be is difficult. There are few here who could mentor me. I got another response to my poll about going with Publish America, which I am not; but I leave it up there to keep that interaction, and hopefully, help a few others trying to decide. This was my response to the reviewer of the poll who was very encouraging, like many others have been. Thanks to all who took the poll and commented: "Thank You for the review and the gift points. I've written off PA since putting up this poll and know now that the traditional publisher is the only way one will know if they've truly made it...otherwise, it would be like imposing myself/my works on the world...and for what? If I self-publish, it will be to share with family and friends and to hopefully put that book in the hands of someone who can take me to the next plateau (like putting a demo tape in the hands of a music producer/agent). Thanks for taking time out to reply to the poll. Got me thinking about it again. I needed that. Brian P.S. - Do you think this website is the best way to get the word out about my writing via the internet? I would like a bigger stage. Be nice to find myself on that avenue where some publishers might drive by to look in the window once in awhile, keeping the hope of the dream alive." I don't want to appear ungrateful for the opportunities I've had here. I tend to say the wrong things and feel like I’m under a microscope with this Preferred Author business. People ask me why I am not 'yellow' yet. Maybe, because I opine so candidly. I'm tactful, for the most part, calling out authority more often than I probably should. They make that out to mean I'm not a 'team player.' I just stand up for what I believe, and I don't do it to be selfish. But they might use propaganda to turn the tables against me to make it appear that I am bad medicine for this site. But, I can only assume. I don't care about the yellow badge anymore...now that I know it is tainted. It's not the right fit for me. It doesn't mean that others who are preferred or higher are bad. It just means they are a better suited for this site than I am. Please don't misjudge me. And if you read this and are offended, please email me. It is not my will to hurt others. I have nothing to gain by doing that. To know me like the people in my life know me would be an eye opener. I have been shy but very loving and loyal since I was a child. I get angry very rarely, but when I do...it's not a pretty thing. It's just the way I'm wired to deal with my emotions. I say things, but I forgive and forget quicker than most. I don't hold grudges. Some still manage to test my patience to be antagonistic for whatever reasons. Times like those, I hope I remember to consult with God before I react. Many people make great efforts to accommodate and make this place fun, make it easy to be here. But I need to struggle to get out of this comfort zone before it sucks me in. I am still here because I'm already settled in with my posted works. Do I want, or have, another 11 months to establish myself elsewhere, only to find the same or comparable shortcomings? I'm here simply because I just want to work on my craft and get published. I will use this blog to further state myself and my purpose for being here in the months to come. Hopefully, I can educate those with whom I've crossed paths so that we can have a better understanding. I'm cool with a lot of people here, nearly everyone that I meet. The people who have been against me (for lack of a better description) know who they are. I don't trouble to change their persuasion. I can't bother to understand why I have clashed with some...they know the reasons better than I...I'm certain. I feel sorry for them...I borrow that line from my Mom. She never hated anyone, reserving that thought for those who didn't want to get along. But, I don't review anymore, unless I want to. I don't enter contests anymore, most are not tailored to my needs and would be a waste of time. I would like to see more contests tailored toward rewarding people for just working on their goals. I don't think this is the best place to get advice or direction. I don't say that to hurt anyone's feelings, again, just being honest. TO ME, this website is more about community, having fun and experimenting with a few things. I've been through college courses, earned my degree, worked in the professional field in various forms of media. I'm here because I have a place to post my work, manipulate it, see where I should go from here. I've been most pleased to have formed some friendships with some really great people. The encouragement, yes, that is what is very special about this site. But, to have someone one day say they have your back and the next stab you there is not a good feeling, especially from one who acts the part of angel. So, having met with the phoniness that exists, it sobers you up...it woke me up. I didn't fall into that self-publishing trap, throwing my money around before developing the notion of where I want to go with my writing career. I take my writing a little more seriously than that. I've been duped before, know when I'm being duped. Those who dupe will eventually be exposed, and not what I am here for. But, if a young writer is preyed upon by another playing the confidence scam, is it not my duty to warn others? if I think someone plays with fragile egos like a violin, steering them toward publishers for their own ill-gotten gain? Okay, that's more than I wanted to say...again. I tried to edit this jounal entry several times. I'll just take my lumps again for speaking my mind. Continue the cold shoulder, if you must. I only wish I could put a mirror at the end of this page to give the deceivers a good look at themselves, in hopes that it will get them to rethink their ways. Glaedr |
I don't write in my blog much. I have reams and reams of pages in my notebook, but nothing I'll share here. It's been a very difficult time for me and my family lately. I'm not physically as well as I'd like to be. Doctors can't find anything wrong with me, but are suspicious of a lot of things from diet, exercise, new medications, stress, and other things immeasurable. I go from days where I really think I could lift the back end of a car to days where I can barely squeeze my hand. Carpal tunnel has been thrown out there, but I have swelling in all extremities, especially the adema in my ankles -- stiffness in joints all the way up to my back and neck. I saw a acupuncturist on Tuesday. Felt some relief, though nothing immediate. It was good to sit in a room and discuss every little problem I've had with someone who'll listen and give advice I can use. I'm definitely not going to take Tylenol or Alleve for awhile to get that sodium filled crap out of my system. I know I need to sleep better. The child in me rules and keeps me up most nights. There is no such thing as being productive as an insomniac. Don't believe Maugh. It will run it's course and sap the remaining potential right out of you. Sleep is essential. I just can't get my body to comply because it has been conditioned to self destruct for far too long. So, I'm irritable and wrestle with these emotions, especially since going off anti-depressants for the first time in 10 years...sorta cold turkey...another no-no I'm told. Bad me. Never listen to anybody and only half the voices in my head! I could go further, but I'm recording this for posterity and because I want this little blog reminder to go away. I don't want to shut off the warning that I need to write, because I really do need to. Can anyone tell me if my writing is grammatically incorrect or uninteresting to read? I would assume so, since I'm still sitting in no-man's land wondering when I'm going to get that tap on the shoulder. I'm hoping the next tap will come from God, but he has not come for me yet. I'll just have to wait and deal with the issues inside of my head and around me. I could be spending more time with my kids and wife...and boy, have I been hearing about it. Why do I keep toiling away at something that won't give back. It's self abuse is what it is. The self-fulfilling prophecy of failure foisted upon me by my old man growing up. He made darn sure I cast no shadows on him -- he'd destroy me if I ever tried to confront him or go behind his back. I loved him dearly, despite the torture. Thanks to my Mom, I have some redeeming values. But I'm afraid I'm split right down the middle. I lean toward his mischievous behavior some days and I want to be the ever loving and unconditionally embracing soul my Mom was. I really want to honor her memory more. It's the rejection issue. The need for that old man to reach out from the grave and finally say 'I love you son,' or 'I respect you,' or 'I'll give you the dues I've held back,' even in death. He'll never come for me. It's his prophecy that I fail time and again and self destruct, pushing everyone and everything away that I love -- burn the bridges just so they can't reject me, and then I build them again, burn them again, fearing rejection over and over. My unusual behavior keeps them away. They don't understand the torment, the trouble inside. Neither do I. After 10 years, neither does my therapist. And like the meds, I won't see her anymore either. I've locked myself away in my own room, letting myself out at night looking for love, but keeping all at arms length. Sometimes, pretending to hug when I really do want to hug. Sometimes, withholding knowing they might have already turned their noses up at me. they they they...Who are they and what right do they have running my life? Why do I let them? I feel like Stitch when he reads the story about the Ugly Duckling and takes the book and wanders out into the woods and opens his soul to anyone who'll hear and yet no one and say, "I'm Lost." I feel I became a swan, but still see myself as ugly. Always have. When I did see that reflection, I could only find vanity, not love. I couldn't accept the image holding someone much sweeter on the inside. It's a wonder I haven't self-destructed by now. I'm Lost. I always manage to find the right crowd and leave them behind in pursuit of the wrong. Why am I even here? Why have I tortured myself for over nine months longing to be embraced by something representative of my father, who could only love himself? Death visits me every night -- though I do not want to take my life. I just want to die and be nothing than to feel what I feel inside at times like this. There's this huge pull that keeps taking me out of my orbit around happiness and thrusts me into a dark world of unknown. I keep wondering if I'll find the love that has forsaken me, knowing I might die trying to find it. I wander into these woods each night and make it out alone. No one can help me, but me. But, I find myself just going through the motions time and again. Each night, the search. Each night, the loss -- the failure. Each time, I must recover and be stronger or feel a little closer to death. I keep hoping death takes me. This perpetual tide will likely sweep me from the forest I know and into the black world that I will not be allowed to return from. And then, I think of my kids. I know how much they need me. I have had to deal with many tears lately. I do not want to reject them, but something always manages to compel me to ignore their needs and search out this darkness in hopes of finding something I've only dreamt of finding one day. Out of the black for tonight. Maybe, again tomorrow. I love you Alex and Maddy. I love you Jen. If I should fail to return one evening, at least you will know where I have been. Love, Brian |
| Part One of Two: Chicken In Search of Head Please return to my shoulders if found. Reward. See man in the chicken suit for more information. I'm Mr. Short Term memory these days. I can't commit or focus on one thing in my life or here at this website. I'll rattle off a bunch of reviews and go hide. I seldom write. I'm supposed to be working on a freelance writing career with the help of the state rehabilitative services program. Why do I start something and then quit to move on to something else? I've had all of these balls in the air for so long now I'm beginning to wonder what those things are that hover over my head. Will they land on me? Squash me flat?? I could have ordered my laptop by now, but I always find a reason to delay that decision. I could be writing on the go. Instead, I start at the computer for about two minutes, get distracted by the kids or something else, come back and spend five minutes before something else comes along. I really, really want to set some goals for myself and accomplish them. But I'm too obsessive compulsive to just let things happen. I'm trying to making everything perfect, plan it out so there will be no Snafus. I am trying to control my destiny, the outcome. I'm told my fear is success. I'm still trying to fathom that one. But I am used to being the one who let someone down, became a failure and went into hiding until the issues that confronted me went away. I'm trying to work inside my own little mindless hell. I get lots of advice about what I should do. I even know what remedies I can pursue and this condition keeps me from getting the foothold in that door to recovery, to the realization of potential. Instead, I meander into this website and then idle. I procrastinate about the stuff I could be doing, worried about too many things that need doing, fear getting screwed by a publisher or someone with bad advice. I'm not giving trust much of a chance in my pursuit of publication. |
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— 29![Merit Badge in Shadows and Light
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A huge congratulations, to you!
You have won a very deserved Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #shadows] , round 112 *^*Smile*^*
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_and_Light-1936078_14.gif)
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Brian,
Congratulations! You won 1st Place in [Link To Item #shadows] with your fantastic poem, [Link to Book Entry #1037176]. Fabulous writing!
Rachel](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Shadows_=38_Light_II-1936078_14.gif)
— 9
MAY 
37![Merit Badge in Coffee Award
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Congratulations on placing 2nd in [Link To Item #2182602] with your poem, [Link to Book Entry #1031722]. *^*Coffeeo*^* Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Coffee_Award-2149524_14.gif)
APRIL 
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Congratulations on the third place win at [Link To Item #hpc] for your poem: [Link to Book Entry #1030482]. Thanks for making me laugh, and keep writing the funny stuff! *^*Bigsmile*^* ~Lornda A.K.A. The Queen of Comedy *^*Crown*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Humorous_Poetry_Contest-1875103_14.gif)
MARCH 
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CONGRATULATIONS for winning 2nd place in [Link To Item #2254385] !!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Contests-235.gif)
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Thank you for your participation in the 48-HOUR CHALLENGE: " Thank You by Dido ." Media Prompt hosted by [Link To User support] March 2022! We appreciate that you tackled this challenge... *^*Smile*^* *^*Thumbsupl*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/WDC-WDC_Media_Prompt.gif)
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Here's to a world where we wouldn't have to keep reciting the words woven in your excellent poem [Link to Book Entry #1027990].](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/Kudos-Good_Things_Take_Time.gif)
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Thank you so much for your poem [Link to Book Entry #1026670]! Please don’t ever stop being you, both as a writer and a visionary of love!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Gay_Lesbian-680.gif)
JANUARY 
18
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Congratulations on winning Best Medium-Length Poem, Free Verse in the 2021 edition of The Quills!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Award-1375927_6.gif)
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Thank you for your generous donation to [Link To Item #quillhome] ! *^*Quill*^* Every donation is used to celebrate WdC while recognizing quality work and acknowledging community involvement. Kindest Regards, Lilli](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Quill_Sponsor-1375927_6.gif)
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From [Link To User jayne] : With my apologies for the Redaction Poem prompt mishap. Thank you for taking on the challenge! I hope to see you next time for a redaction-free week of fun at [Link To Item #dailypoem] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Problem_Solving-210.gif)
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Congratulations on being our Honorable Mention in March of 2022 at [Link To Item #2216416] !
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CONGRATULATIONS for [Link To Item #2229211] winning place as an Honourable Mention in [Link To Item #2254385] !](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Action_Adventure-100.gif)
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For placing 3rd in the Bard's Hall Blogging Contest, June 2022](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Bard=s_Hall_Blogging_Merit_Badge-2094227_12.gif){kind=icon}
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A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art.
― Paul Cezanne
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